


Touching My Body, to Worship Yours

by adevinecomedy



Series: Bodyswapped Evening [1]
Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Anal Fingering, Aziraphale Has a Penis (Good Omens), Body Worship, Bodyswap, Ineffable Husbands (Good Omens), Masturbation, Other, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-27
Updated: 2019-08-27
Packaged: 2020-09-28 01:26:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,339
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20417585
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/adevinecomedy/pseuds/adevinecomedy
Summary: It's the night before their trials in heaven and hell, and Crowley and Aziraphale have swapped bodies. Aziraphale is left on his own in Crowley's flat and finds a few ways to pass the time.





	Touching My Body, to Worship Yours

**Author's Note:**

> This is really just self indulgent on my part. I'm tempted to write one for Crowley in Azriraphale's body too, let me know if you want that and I'll add on to this fic.

It felt strange to be in Crowley’s body. The switch had gone well, and Crowley had said something about it being odd if he stayed the night and was spotted before they could pull the wool over the eyes of their respective home offices. Then he was gone, leaving Aziraphale standing alone in Crowley’s flat. 

The nerves of what to expect in the morning gave way to a small wave of grief. He missed his bookshop and the idea of all the first editions that were gone caused quite a bit of distress. He was thankful to Crowley for saving Agnes Nutter’s book, especially if they understood the final prophecy written in the book and were saved because of it, but the idea that everything else was all gone weighed heavily on his mind. Without his books, and the fact that he didn’t particularly care for sleep, Aziraphale was left to pace to try and get out some of his nervous energy. He needed a distraction to help clear his mind, so he set about nosing around the flat.

First, he explored the living room where Crowley had left him. Everything seemed so cold and sterile, from the sharp angular furniture to the pale grey walls with little decoration. Aziraphale looked through Crowley’s soul music record collection and muttered something about bebop before moving on to take in the plants around the room. They were all very lustrous and shiny, but Aziraphale couldn’t help but notice that they seemed to tremor slightly as he approached them. He tried to send them signals of love and affection, but it all fell a bit flat coming from the body he currently occupied. He then thought better about trying again, lest someone was watching him or his movements. 

He was feeling a bit warm after perusing the room, Crowley seemed to keep his flat quite warm.  _ Must be a hell thing  _ Aziraphale thought to himself. He pulled off his jacket and glanced down at it before placing it on the back of a nearby chair. With a snap, he changed the crimson collar to one with a light honey brown and blue tartan.  _ That’s better,  _ he thought, and placed it on the chair to continue his exploring. 

Moving into Crowley’s office he took in the large desk and the gaudy chair. “Hm” he muttered to himself as he looked around the room. There wasn’t much in this room either, except for the sketch of the Mona Lisa and a television. He wondered what Crowley even got up to in here that he could call it an office. 

Moving into the hall, he caught a glimpse of the large statue of an angel and a demon “wrestling”, or so he had been told. It certainly seemed like much more than that, but who could say. The rest of the rooms were explored in short order, ending with Aziraphale sprawling himself out on Crowley’s bed. All in all, his exploration had only taken half an hour.

_ This is going to be a long night _ he thought to himself with a resigned sigh as he laid back on Crowley’s satiny sheets and stared at the ceiling. Forgetting himself for a moment, he moved to unbutton his waistcoat and froze when he found no buttons and instead a soft, tight t-shirt and a firm stomach under his fingers. He jumped and looked down at himself, remembering that he was occupying Crowley’s corporeal form. An idea shot through his mind with the grace and delicacy of a truck crashing through a wall. Aziraphale suddenly had quite a few ideas of how he could pass the time for the evening. 

With a snap, the ceiling above Crowley’s bed suddenly had a mirrored addition that gave Aziraphale a perfect full length view of the body he was wearing. He took in the lithe form and began to stroke his chest with his hands. Over the millennia, Aziraphale had occasionally caught glimpses of Crowley without any clothes on, but he had never been able to take all of him in like this. He certainly had never gotten to touch him like this. Occasional stolen brushes of finger tips, shoulders pressed together on park benches, breath against the shell of an ear as they discussed things over meals in crowded restaurants. Things Aziraphale had savored and committed to memory for his own private pleasure in the safety of his book shop. 

Slowly he pulled the hem of the shirt up exposing a strip of skin. Staring up into the mirror, he ran his other hand along the exposed flesh and shivered at the sensation he felt there. He continued his careful exploration of Crowley’s body, slowly pulling the shirt up to his collarbone. He stopped and stared reverently at Crowley’s chest, running both hands up the obliques and down to the top of the tight leather trousers. 

He felt absolutely wicked watching as he touched a body that wasn’t strictly his, he was just borrowing it for the moment. Sitting up, he pulled the shirt off over his head and folded it neatly before placing it on the floor next to the bed. No reason to make a mess, after all, he was a guest.

Aziraphale laid on his stomach and strained to try and take in a view of his back to little success. With a sigh and another snap, he produced a small hand mirror. He gazed into the small reflective surface and watched how his back muscles moved under the skin. He briefly considered if he could pull Crowley’s wings into this plane of reality, but thought better of it. No need to muss them up and have to spend an age trying to preen them back into the proper shape. 

Setting the mirror on the small side table, Aziraphale rolled into his back once more running hands down and straight for the belt on the trousers. Undoing the snake motif belt, he couldn’t help but think:  _ Really Crowley, so many snake things on and around you. A bit on the nose, don’t you think?  _

His hands fumbled with the button and the fly as he worked to undo them. His breath hitched and he paused in his ministrations, glancing up at the mirror on the ceiling. He was a bit surprised to see how flushed he was getting. The pink tone to his skin spread from his cheeks through his upper chest, and his hair was mussed from pulling off the shirt and rolling around the bed. He quite liked what he saw and briefly wondered if he could make Crowley feel and look like this once he got his usual body back. 

The idea of Crowley panting and flushed under his hands as he teased him and tasted him drew the most unholy noise from Aziraphale’s lips. He could picture it quite clearly in his mind, and suddenly his trousers felt altogether much too tight. 

He tried to strip out of them quickly, but was faced with the problem of them being practically painted on.  _ How on earth does he get these things on and off again each day?  _ He thought as he tried to wiggle them down his hips. 

The realization that Crowley must miracle them on and off each day hit him like a slap in the face. He couldn’t help but let out a small snort of laughter at the demons determination to have the tightest trousers he could. With a snap, the trousers were gone and folded neatly with the shirt next to the bed. Obvious signs of his growing desire strained the underwear that was left on his body. 

As much as Aziraphale wanted to dive in to the main course, so to speak, he knew if he took his time and had a few aperitifs, the experience of the main course would be all the more pleasurable. He returned his eyes upward to the mirror on the ceiling and began by slowly stroking a hand over his stomach. He felt the contours of Crowley’s body and the smooth muscle that flexed under the skin as he moved his hand in slow, lazy circles. He began to feel warm and tingly at the sensation. He moved his free hand to one of his nipples and slowly circled it with only a finger at first. As the sensations built and his nipples began to harden, he introduced his thumb, rolling the hard nub between his finger tips. A shallow moan slipped from his lips as he pinched down hard. He brought his other hand up from where it had been working on his stomach to toy with the other nipple. The sensations were electric and shot pleasure straight to his cock. He would have to remember how sensitive Crowley’s nipples were if he ever got the opportunity to bed him in his usual body. If he felt this good now, then he knew he would be able to completely undo Crowley without even touching his cock. 

He left himself panting quite heavily from the attention he had paid to his nipples, and allowed his hands to drift downward. He stroked along his hips and thighs, teasing the edges of the briefs he left on to keep him from immediately stroking his cock. It was getting my difficult to ignore the throbbing feeling between his legs and the wet patch that was spreading along the front of the undergarment. 

He slid his hands under his body to cup his rear. What an ass Crowley had, round and firm under his palms. He rolled over and got onto all fours, retrieving the small mirror from the table and using it again to get a good look. He arched his back slightly to get an even better view. His mind drifted to seeing Crowley like this and burying his face between those delicious cheeks and eating him like he was the most special and satisfying meal he would ever experience. He pulled the briefs down slightly, not enough to free his cock, only enough so that he could see more of that lovely ass. He used his hands to spread his cheeks, watching in the small mirror the entire time. He teased himself a bit with a finger circling around his hole. A curse fell from his lips as he probed at his entrance, a slight burn from the pressure and friction. His hips bucked forward looking for purchase and stimulation. Pausing for a moment, he tried to even his breathing and gain a modicum of composure. 

He miracled his fingers slick with a thought and steeled himself for what he was about to do. With a few gulping breaths like a man drowning, he plunged a finger inside of himself. It felt amazing, all of the nerves lit up with sensation in his body. After a few thrusts, he needed more. A second finger quickly joined the first, feeling his inner walls grip at the intrusion. Glancing over his shoulder at the mirror on the ceiling, he watched as he fingered himself, his mouth open in a perpetual moan. His free hand gripped the bed sheets as he savored each thrusting sensation as he moved his fingers in and out.

With a deep sigh, he realized he couldn’t take it anymore. He needed to touch his cock and relieve the ache he was feeling. It was getting almost painful at this point. 

He withdrew his fingers, and with a thought they were brought back to their original clean state. He took a few moments to pant and let his breathing settle before moving on to his next decadent round of pleasing himself.

He gathered the pillows on the bed around him, and made himself comfortable on his back. He wanted a perfect view in the mirror above the bed so he could watch and burn every detail of Crowley’s body in pleasure into his mind. The front of the tight briefs were absolutely soaked through from his arousal. Carefully, he freed himself from the fabric prison, and kicked them off of his legs. 

He breathed a small moan as he gazed at Crowley’s cock. It was beautiful in every way, not too terribly long or thick, and it fit nicely in his hand as he gripped the shaft. The sensation tore through his body and caused him to let out a strangled moan. He watched himself writhe in the mirror as he pumped his fist, allowing moans to fall freely from his mouth as he went. Suddenly an idea took hold as he pleasured himself.

Quietly at first he began to speak. “Ah… Aziraphale, yes! Touch me there, make me feel good.”

After the first few sentences, he could feel his confidence increasing. He so badly wanted to hear Crowley say things like that. To tell him how good he was making him feel, to hear how wrecked his voice was as he pleasured him. 

Hearing the words fall from Crowley’s lips, in Crowley’s voice sent sparks shooting through his body. A warmth pooled in his lower abdomen as he rushed toward his release. Before he could try to extend his pleasure, he was tipping over the edge. Warm liquid coated his stomach as he came with a long, drawn out moan. 

He lay there, staring up into the mirror feeling completely boneless. He could barely manage a miracle to get himself cleaned up, but he did eventually manage it. His limbs felt heavy, and he was very tired, but he was very pleased with himself. 

No matter what happened at the trial, he would be able to face it. He had to beat it so that he could have a chance to tell Crowley exactly how he felt about him. 

Quietly, he let the words “I love you Aziraphale” fall from his lips as he drifted off to sleep. He felt warm and loved, and most definitely sated. Tomorrow was going to be a busy, dangerous day and he was ready for it. 


End file.
